


Dreamcatcher

by fab_fan



Category: Motherland: Fort Salem (TV)
Genre: Belonging, F/F, I Swear It's Light, Idiots in Love, Introspection, Light Angst, supportive girlfriends
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-18
Updated: 2020-07-18
Packaged: 2021-03-04 21:08:37
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,172
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25362901
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fab_fan/pseuds/fab_fan
Summary: Scylla let one of her hands go, running the pad of her finger along a tightly knit braid, “Tell me something.”“What?” Raelle nearly purred under the attention.“Anything,” Scylla peeked around, “What’s that?”“Hmmm?” Raelle turned her head, “What’s what?”“That.” Scylla nodded at the dreamcatcher hanging near their heads.
Relationships: Raelle Collar/Scylla Ramshorn
Comments: 22
Kudos: 187





	Dreamcatcher

**Author's Note:**

> Takes place before Beltane.

“You’re so beautiful.”

Raelle felt Scylla smile against her lips as their noses brushed lazily. She let her fingertips dip beneath her girlfriend’s shirt and tickle the small of her back before smoothing a palm along the warm flesh, thumb rubbing languidly along the bump of her spine. 

The two young witches were cuddled close on Raelle’s bunk, face to face and cocooned in a tangle of limbs and soft breaths. The late afternoon sun reflected through the window and painted the room in shades of bright yellows and oranges with a deeper red tinge. The room was quiet, Tally and Abigail out, Tally with Glory and Abigail most likely arguing with Libba about something mind boggling unimportant like who brushed their teeth more times in a day.

Either way, it didn’t matter. What mattered was they were alone, safe in their secret little world, hidden from brutal training runs and judgemental side eyes. From unsupportive sergeants and gossiping cadets. It was just them. Scylla and Raelle.

The best thing in the world. 

Tilting her head, Raelle coaxed Scylla in for another kiss, light and slow, nothing more than a touch of the lips. She closed her eyes, basking in the feel of a hand cradling the back of her head, blunt fingernails scratching in such a way that she could feel herself gently drifting off, so comfortable and happy it was like a dream.

There might still be questions. Scylla might not be open with her about much of anything, and sometimes Raelle wondered how _in_ this Scylla was, because Raelle was finding herself all in, no matter what. Falling fast without a rope or hand to hold her back. Without someone to possibly catch her.

But, she’d promised to let Scylla take her time. That she would be there when Scylla was ready. Show her that Raelle was different from all the other people who had been in her life before.

Give this gorgeous girl the support and care that she needed, even if Scylla didn’t outright ask for it. 

Give her someone to trust.

And, to be honest, this right here, being in Scylla’s arms, having Scylla in hers, was the closest to perfection Raelle could ever remember being.

Scylla kissed the corner of her mouth, tip of her tongue coming out to taste the pale pink sweetness. Her hips easily slotted into place, Raelle’s leg casually shifting and her toes running along the length of her calf. 

“How long do we have?” Scylla murmured, voice barely breaking the peaceful tranquility.

“Forever.” Raelle answered without thinking, words slipping out easily, and nudged her closer. She bumped the tip of her nose against Scylla’s playfully, almost earning a giggle. She vowed to herself to get at least one good laugh out of the other girl that day. Hopefully a laugh and a cute tiny exasperated giggle before dinner.

Scylla rolled her eyes, hand skimming down from blonde braids to cup a strong jaw, “This is why Anacostia thinks I’m a bad influence on you.”

“The worst.” Raelle sighed as Scylla traced the lines of her face, trickling down to map out the column of her throat and fold into the collar of her black shirt. 

Scylla smirked against her mouth, “You like bad girls, Collar?”

“I like you.” 

She ignored the way tiny unseen butterflies fluttered in her stomach and pulled the cotton material to the side, exposing a patch of skin and the jut of a collarbone. Her lips sunk down, teeth nipping at the newly revealed skin before soothing the spot with the flat of her tongue.

Raelle’s head fell back, resting against the pillow as her hips canted, the rush of desire hitting her like a wave, crashing up then evening out to a smooth swell of always present want, need, feelings that Raelle refused to put into words yet because words had power, and these feelings had more power than either were ready for.

Scylla hummed, tongue and teeth skimming along the border of light and dark. Her hands grasped at the shirt and lifted, urging it up and off.

Raelle raised herself up, helping to remove the barrier before twisting, dropping her arm on the other side of her girl and hovering over her. The spring air prickled her skin, and her belly dipped low, threatening to skim along Scylla’s as she adjusted her hips.

Scylla gazed up at her through hooded eyes, already reaching for the buckle of Raelle’s belt, “A little charge so you can show Quartermaine how _bad_ we can be?”

Raelle huffed out a small laugh, but she caught the wandering hands, holding them gingerly in her own, “Do you...maybe we can just lay her for a bit?”

Scylla’s brows furrowed.

Sensing the change, Raelle gulped, “I want you. A lot. But, I don’t know, it’s nice to just _be_ with you sometimes.”

And, it was.

Don’t get her wrong. Raelle enjoyed sex with Scylla. More than enjoyed. Sometimes craved it so much it was a wonder someone hadn’t labeled her an addict. Addicted to temptress kisses and seductive touches. A goddess in a siren’s form. 

But, it wasn’t just sex. Not for her. She liked Scylla. Really liked her. And, sometimes the touches she wanted most were the brush of a hand as fingers tangled with her own or the tender weight of a head as it cushioned against her chest for a quick nap.

She liked watching Scylla read her textbooks. Liked listening to her soft breaths as they laid together, spent and on the cusp of slumber. She liked feeling the brunette’s laugh as it rumbled against her back when she swooped her up into an awkward piggyback ride or against her chest when they were in each other’s arms.

She liked everything about Scylla.

That thought was why Raelle still refused to put a name on the deep well of emotion churning and growing in her soul.

Sometimes, she felt like Scylla was going to tell her something. Was going to hold her just so and kiss her just right and let Raelle know she wasn’t alone in this.

And, sometimes, it felt like she was after a charge and making trouble, nothing more.

Raelle hoped with everything inside of her that it wasn’t the latter.

Scylla’s face softened, and something that almost looked like astonished affection swept through her eyes. She bit her lip and nodded, “Yeah. Sure. Of course.”

Raelle glanced away, “It’s not that I don’t want to.”

“Raelle,” Scylla flipped her wrists, connecting their palms and lacing their fingers, “come here.”

Raelle grinned self-conciously, letting her body carefully collapse on top of the brunette’s. 

She’d never get over how perfectly they fit together.

Scylla let one of her hands go, running the pad of her finger along a tightly knit braid, “Tell me something.”

“What?” Raelle nearly purred under the attention.

“Anything,” Scylla peeked around, “What’s that?”

“Hmmm?” Raelle turned her head, “What’s what?”

“That.” Scylla nodded at the dreamcatcher hanging near their heads.

Raelle blinked at it, blue orbs outlining the intricately woven threads. She wet her lips, “It’s a dreamcatcher. My mama gave it to me when I was small.”

Scylla caressed the side of her throat, “What’s it do?”

“Protects.” Raelle shifted, nestling her shoulder in the crook of Scylla’s arm, “It’s supposed to protect the people you care about when you can’t be there.” Her lashes fluttered as a wave of darkness passed over her face, “My mama wasn’t home much, always deployed, but she gave that to me so when she was away, nothing could hurt me.”

Once, when she was much younger, Raelle tried to sneak her dreamcatcher into her mama's pack before she left. So she could be protected, too. The shattered look her mama gave her when she found it still haunted Raelle's dreams some nights.

What if she had her combat charm and Raelle's dreamcatcher with her? Would she have been protected enough to come home?

Scylla ran her hand up and down her side, “Did it?”

Her throat tightened as flashes of memories sparked in her mind, “Sometimes.”

Scylla frowned, “I’m sorry. I know it’s hard. If you don’t want to…”

“No,” Raelle’s lips twitched with a sad smile, “I...it’s ok.” She let her head burrow into the crook of Scylla’s shoulder, “It’s a Cession thing. Chippewa. They almost made me take it down during my first inspection, but Anacostia let me keep it. Have to move it for inspection, but I move it back after.” Their hands tangled together on Scylla’s chest, “They say there was a Spider Woman. She protected the people, but especially the kids. When the tribe started to move and grow, she couldn't protect everyone. So, she created the dreamcatcher. You, uh,” She lifted their joined hands, pointing at the decorated hoops, “you hang it where the sun can catch it. It attracts good and bad spirits - dreams. The good can go through. The bad don’t. Get caught and burn in the light.”

Burn in the light.

Scylla pursed her lips, “Sounds nice.”

Raelle shrugged, “Old tales people tell, but mama had hers and she made me mine.” She brought Scylla’s hand to her mouth, kissing her knuckles, “The feather represents the air. What you need to live. Mama gave me an eagle’s for courage.” 

“So, that’s why you’re so brave.” Scylla played with slim fingers, lacing and unlacing their interlocked hands.

Raelle snorted, “Just stories.”

Scylla angled her head so she could look at her, “You believe them.” 

Another shrugged, “Grew up with them.”

“In the Cession.”

“Yeah.”

“You don’t talk about the Cession much.” Scylla spoke softly. “I know you’re from there, but you don’t bring it up a lot.”

“Not much to bring up. It’s a lot of nothing.” Raelle exhaled, thinking of empty lots and empty store shelves. Empty pockets and empty bellies. 

“I don’t believe that.” Scylla whispered. “Come on, tell me something.”

“My pop, he fixes cars. Or, tries to. Not a lot of runnin’ cars that need fixin’. Always jokes about how fixin’ runs in the family, but none of us can fix anythin’ runnin’. He fixes broken down cars and my mama...my mama used to fix broken down people. And, uh, my grandma sometimes said ya can't fix trouble if ya run from it, and no use runnin' because trouble's faster than a jackrabbit.” She sniffed, her drawl becoming more pronounced as she got lost in thought of a land many looked down upon but she called home, “I learned to play lacrosse there. We didn’t have a school team, not enough equipment or money to travel 'round, but we had pickup games in this empty field out back behind the store. I didn’t have a lot of friends. But, they let me play lacrosse with 'em.”

“Sounds nice.”

“It was home.”

“You should talk about it more often. Sounds like you have a lot of stories.”

“Yeah sure,” she huffed sarcastically, “having a civilian dad is enough for people to have a problem with me. Being from the Cession? From a tribe? Trying to talk to people about that? No one asks, and they don’t want to know.”

Civilian dad.

Scylla sucked in a breath, trying to not think about what that meant. What it could mean. “Tally would probably like to hear about it. I do.”

Raelle grumbled, “No one wants to hear about the Cession. Half the people don’t even think I’m from there.”

“Because of how you look?”

Raelle stiffened.

_“Where you from?”_

_“Chippewa Cession, near Carolina.”_

_“Looking pretty pale for Chippewa Cession.”_

Scylla immediately kissed the top of her head, “I’m sorry. I know you are.”

“Everyone says that.” Raelle growled, unlinking their hands. The familiar streak of red simmered behind her eyes, causing her head to ache and throat to tighten. Her hackles started to rise, the innate need to _fight_ something clawing at her insides like a wild beast barely held back by a thin tattered rope.

“Hey,” Scylla didn’t let her hand wander far, recapturing it in an instant and holding it tight, “it’s ok. You’re here with me.” She squeezed, “Rae.”

Raelle breathed out loudly, jaw locked and eyes hard, a hint of a much deeper despair hidden behind the blue, “People think I’m some liar who showed up one day and decided to pretend. That I’m not who I say I am. From where I’m from. My drawl’s too strong or not strong enough. I’m too light. My eyes ain’t the right color.” Her shoulders were taut, like a string was pulled as far as it could go, ready to snap. “A white skinned half breed witch? With a scar and trash christian-pagan bullshit Work who...”

“Raelle,” Scylla hugged her close, “breathe, baby.”

Scylla’d unknowingly and unintentionally lit a match she didn’t know was a bomb waiting to explode.

She sensed there was something there, something lurking beneath the surface, but the pain riddling her girlfriend’s words was more than she anticipated.

It broke her heart.

And, sadly, made her think there was another reason Raelle felt like she didn’t fit in...didn’t have a place anywhere...just like Scylla did at times.

Raelle swallowed thickly, forcing herself to remain calm. Her voice quivered with barely suppressed emotion, “The High Atlantics around here think we’re nothin’ more’n poor ignorant nothings. Cessions go to the front lines. We die early. We don’t become officers or make decisions. We fight and we die and that’s what we’re born to do.” She chuckled angrily, “We die, like my mama, and no one cares. We aren’t supposed to do _our_ Work. Sometimes people look at me like I’m trash. Take your pick. Cession. Half civilian. Half witch.”

Scylla’s eyes widened as she felt the agitation grow and temper flare, and she maneuvered them so she could stare into Raelle’s eyes, “Stop. Hey, look at me.”

“Sorry.” Raelle closed her eyes, jaw working, “We finally get a day off and…”

“No,” Scylla shushed her, “It’s ok. I like learning about you. I want to know about you.” She tapped her shoulder, “Your drawl is hot.”

Raelle laughed quietly.

“I’m sorry you had to go through that. You have to go through that. But, all of that makes you who you are. You’re smart, and funny, and cute as hell. You, Raelle Collar, are a catch. Damn those High Atlantics and anyone else who says otherwise. Their loss.”

Raelle nodded, not looking like she fully believed it.

“I mean it,” Scylla spoke firmly. “You’re more than you give yourself credit for.”

“Yeah. Maybe.” Raelle bit her lip, changing the subject, “What about you? Any stories?”

“No,” Scylla’s mouth turned down, “Nothing like that.”

Raelle crawled onto her elbows, letting her gaze drop over Scylla’s, “If you ever think of some, I’d love to hear them. Whenever you want, Scyl. Anything.”

Instead of responding, Scylla leaned up, melding her mouth to Raelle’s.

How could she tell her she had no stories because she never stayed anywhere long enough to have them? She was always moving. Dodging. No connections. No relationships. No dreamcatchers because, many times, they left in the middle of the night with only the clothes on their back and a small emergency bag of essentials.

She didn’t have _people._ Only her parents.

Then, only the Spree.

The Spree, who nurtured her hate. Nurtured her anger and apathy. Encouraged her to let the darkness grow because it was the only way to achieve the light. 

They didn’t block out the evil demons. 

They let them through. Welcomed them. Harnessed them. Gave them a place to thrive, to conquer, to achieve.

Looking at Raelle, though, full of youth and fury and beauty, she felt like maybe she wasn’t as caught up in the spider’s web as she had previously thought.

Maybe she might slip through, enter with the light.

Scylla ran her palms along Raelle’s bare sides, silently counting her ribs and teasing the strong muscles along her back before slipping under to caress the smooth expanse of her stomach. She smirked as muscles and sinew twitched beneath her touch, and she nipped encouragingly at a wet bottom lip. 

Raelle rocked into her, eyes closing as she touched her forehead to Scylla’s. She inhaled deeply, voice at a whisper, “Thank you.”

“Always.” Scylla found herself replying and meaning it. She cradled Raelle’s head, kissing her with such tenderness it surprised both of them. Tasting the emotions painting a pliant mouth, Scylla twisted, guiding Raelle onto her back. She let her lips move down, forging a path she had already travelled countless times before and would rediscover countless times again along the jut of her chin and past the hollow of her throat to the valley between her breasts. She could feel the beat of Raelle’s heart, and found herself pressing an affectionate kiss over the resilient rhythm, almost feeling a slight skip that matched her own.

“Scyl,”

“Shh.” Scylla shushed her, shooting a smirk that wobbled with fondness. Her chest ached at the shine in Raelle’s eyes. They way they looked at her as if she was the only thing that mattered. 

Like she wasn’t going away. And she didn’t want Scylla to go away, either.

That she might follow Scylla if she did.

“What?” Raelle asked, noticing the flicker in her gaze.

Scylla shook her head ruefully, “Nothing.”

Raelle blinked, looking like she wanted to ask more, but didn’t. Instead she asked, “Take a nap with me?”

Scylla studied her, taking in the earnest twitch at the edge of her mouth and the hopeful adoring glimmer along her cheeks. The way she didn’t push, though Scylla knew she wanted to. The way she should because Raelle deserved a girlfriend who wasn’t lying to her. Who could be open and trusting and not afraid of what was actually happening between them, the feelings and emotions that were real, no matter how hard Scylla tried at the start to pretend like they weren’t. “Yeah,” Scylla nestled into her chest, biting her lip to hold in a sigh as fingers stroked her hair, “Sure.”

Raelle smiled endearingly, leaning down to kiss the top of her head.

They laid there, wrapped in each other’s arms, nothing but the warm spring sunshine and muted voices and footfalls from down the hall attempting to sneak through the absolute sense of calm that settled over them like the quilt folded neatly at the end of Raelle’s bunk.

Scylla felt her eyes begin to close, lulled by the steady heartbeat and gentle ministrations. The last thing she saw before she slipped into slumber was the dreamcatcher, its feathers almost winking at her conspiratorially.

When she woke up half an hour later, Raelle quietly snoring beneath her, she felt more well rested than she had in years.

No nightmares or cruel monsters had plagued her sleep.

Only bright dreams of sparkling champagne and slow dances in the middle of a dance floor.


End file.
